


Leather and Fur

by JayceCarter



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Biting, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Hate Sex, Mild Blood, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 15:12:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13977765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayceCarter/pseuds/JayceCarter
Summary: Mason and Mags have some issues to work out, and the two know exactly how to do so.





	Leather and Fur

**Author's Note:**

> I need some mindless shameless smut. We were talking rarepairs the other day, so I added some to a list for me to try. This was on it. :)

She looked fucking good in leather. Most girls did, something the Pack girls had missing. Pack didn’t wear leather. Feathers, fur, sure. No leather, though.

 

Mason hated to admit it, but the Operators knew how to dress, and none did it up like Mags did. She put even her own girls to shame, hair flawless, thick belt showing off her hips.

 

His hands flexed as he thought about how wet she got for him, those time when it was just the two of 'em, when the fucked somewhere in the space between lust and hate.

 

She snapped those fingers, the red polish catching the light. "Are your ears broken, _Alpha_? Perhaps you could pay attention when we are discussion territory boundaries?"

 

He lifted the side of his lips at the venom in her voice. Was she drenched between those thighs already? She wore the prettiest fucking underwear, lacy shit he had no idea how she found or kept nice. Fancy, stuck-up bitch. He hoped they were sopping wet, rubbing against her cunt when she moved, a reminder of her place, of how much she wanted him even though she'd never admit it.

 

"I ain't much of a listener, _kitten_."

 

She sucked in a breath at the use of the nickname. Ah, she looked good pissed. He liked her snarling better than he liked her purring.

 

Not that she ever purred.

 

Her fuckwit brother stepped forward, chest puffed out. "Watch your mouth when you're talking to her."

 

Mason had assumed, like everyone else, that the brother and sister duo had been fucking when they showed up. That sort of sibling closeness was just fucking weird.

 

Now? Now, Mason knew the truth. He leaned in closer to William and dropped his voice. "Blue balls, huh? Maybe you'd be less of an asshole if you went and found some girl to fuck. Bet I could find a whore who looked just like her, blonde hair, good tits. She'd even let you call her Mags for a few extra caps."

 

William’s fist flew when the last word left Mason's lips. Not a shock and he took the sucker punch without complaint.

 

He'd earned it. Worth it. He’s wear that bruise no problem.

 

"William!"

 

William closed his hand into a fist but backed off like the good little bitch he was. "Sure, Mags. Whatever you say."

 

Mason sent one more wink William's way before turning his gaze away dismissively. "Look, I don't fucking care about the piece of shit robots. Take the spare parts from outside Safari Zone for your stupid bot fights. Just keep your asshole people out of my territory. They step foot in Safari Zone, they're getting gutted, and it’ll be their own damned fault."

 

Mags' lips turned white as they pressed together before she nodded. "Fair enough. I'll send a team to collect the parts and warn them to steer clear of the local wildlife."

 

Mason lifted both hands and flipped her off. Bitch was always thinking she was in charge of shit. She ran a group one step up from the Gunners. They might bring in the caps, but their reputation was shit. Hell, he was pretty sure he could take 'em out if they had to. The Pack would eat them alive and fuck the corpse that had been the Operators if they needed to.

 

Mags lifted her lip. A sneer, not a snarl, not from the queen of the pricks.

 

Mason turned and walked out.

 

 

#

 

 

Mags looked even better in the dim light of the treehouse. Something about the sunset throwing those fucking oranges that caught in her hair, the reds that highlighted those lips of hers.

 

Fuck, she was gorgeous. Worse? The bitch knew it.

 

"You shouldn't talk to me like that in front of my people." Her hands went to her belt, unfastening it so it clattered to the floor.

 

"Don't get your panties twisted, kitten. Ain't my place to keep your people in line."

 

"Don't think you have anything to do with my panties." She unzipped her jacket, hanging it on the hook he'd had installed for her.

 

No, not for her. Fuck that. He'd just. . . needed a hook. A hook he never used.

 

"Keep your own boys under control." Mason pulled his tank top off, tossing it to the floor, rewarded by her soft snort.

 

She hated mess. It made him determined to make an even bigger mess.

 

"I'd never undermine you in front of the Pack, Mason. You don't want the complicated of the Operators thrown into chaos, I'm sure."

 

She was right, and that annoyed him more than anything else.

 

Instead of acknowledging it, because Mason didn't apologize, he set his hands on her hips and pulled her against him. "You should deal with that brother of yours. I'll be happy to put a knife in his back for you."

 

She unfastened his pants then shoved at the material until the slid down over his ass, bunched at his thighs. "Stop letting your filthy imagination run wild. Not everyone is as perverse as you are."

 

Mason laughed at that, then spun Mags and shoved her forward. She caught herself with her hands on the table, but it gave Mason enough time to yank her pants down, the button of them flying off. "You're in denial, kitten. That freak would fuck you the second you let him into your cunt."

 

"Do you have to be so crass?"

 

Mason let his pants drop the rest of the way, then yanked his feet out of them. He placed his foot on her pants, between her feet, using them as a tether. "Yeah, I do." He used his thumb to press into her cunt through the crotch of her panties. "But if the way you're gushing means shit, you fucking like it. You gonna bend over here like a good kitten and let me fuck you?"

 

Mags' hands flexed on the table, her hips pushing back against his hand.

 

Mason leaned in to press his lips against her neck.

 

Instead, she shoved up, connecting her head with his face. It knocked him backward, causing him to hit his back against the wall.

 

At least he didn't end up on his ass and naked.

 

Mags leaned her ass against the table to remove her boots, then her pants. The pants she folded and set on the table. She walked, hips swaying like the best tease until she placed her boots on the floor below  her hung up jacket.

 

Mason had his hands over his nose, the wetness telling him it bled. Not broken, thank fuck. Not that a broken would nose have stopped him anyway. A bit of pain and blood was the price of all good fucks, and he was more than willing to pay 'em, especially when it came to the battle of wills he had with Mags.

 

It was one reason he kept doing this shit. The Pack girls, they gave in. They spread their legs and batted their eyelashes and just gave him what he wanted.

 

Mags didn't give him shit.

 

"Drew first blood, huh?" Mason's hands muffled the words.

 

Mags' top rode up, showing off a strip of skin between the black fucking panties and the top. She was pale, something he understood, something he shared. Even with all the time in the sun, he never darkened much.

 

"Don't talk about my brother."

 

"I don't take orders so well."

 

"Learn, pup." Mags grabbed the back of Mason's neck, having to reach up to do so.

 

He thought she'd pull him in for a kiss, that line they'd never crossed, but leave it to Mags to stick to the rules, even the unspoken ones.

 

She yanked him down until his knees hit the ground.

 

The impact vibrated up his legs, into his hips, but fuck if he cared right then.

 

Mags lifted a leg, one of those long fucking legs, and set her foot on his shoulder. He let that foot drop down, heel digging into his back until her thigh rested on his shoulder. Her hand wrapped in his hair, grasping it in a tight grip that pulled against his scalp. "Come on, pup. Be a good boy and make up for your mouth earlier."

 

He turned his head and sunk his teeth into the thigh on his shoulder. Her muscles tensed beneath his bite, but she didn't pull away. For the rich, stuck up bitch she was, she could impress him. And, fuck, that's what he liked about marking her up, about leaving the circular shaped bruises on her. Course, he never left 'em anywhere anyone would see 'em, but knowing they were there, knowing when she stripped down by herself later, she'd be forced to think about him, yeah, he liked that shit.

 

He released her thigh when she pulled on his hair. Blood sat on her thigh from his nose, the sight turning him on more than it should have. But, fuck, he accepted that he was a deviant. He didn’t fucking care.

 

Mason turned his face to focus on her cunt. On hard yank tore her panties off, thrilled with her annoyed huff. While obeying never sat well with him, he couldn't deny he liked to take her apart.

 

Anyone could fuck. If there was something he'd learned in the Pack, it was that sex was just cock and cunt. No skill needed.

 

Any asshole with a working dick could fuck a woman, but getting 'em wet? Making 'em moan? Yeah, that's where the hunt was, the game, the skill.

 

Nothing better than Mags when that hair got fucked up, when strands of it stuck out, soaked in sweat when she whined and arched into his touch. That's what he was there for. Any bitch could get him off, that was boring.

 

He was there for something different.

 

Mason didn't kiss her, not even her cunt. Fuck that. This wasn't kissing, wasn't romance. He refused to even think about wanting that.

 

He pointed his tongue so it slid up her folds, dipping in. So damned wet.

 

He pulled back just enough to speak. "Knew you'd be soaked, kitten. You like to pretend you're above this shit, but you want it more than I do, don't you?"

 

She pulled against on his hair before letting her nails dig into his scalp as well. "Are you going to try and tell me you weren't hard when you walked into my Parlor? You're lucky I didn't put you in your place right there. I wonder how your filthy animals would react to seeing you like this, on your knees for me like a good dog."

 

"Course I was hard. Have you taken a look at your ass in those pants of yours? Ain't ashamed of that shit; it's biology." He licked her clit, then moved his hand the pull back the hood of her clit. He loved the way it swelled, just begging for his attention. Needy, just like her. Her lips, dyed with carefully applied lipstick, might lie.

 

And fuck, did they ever lie. But her cunt never lied.

 

She didn't move her hips, didn't grind against his face. No, not Mags. The only sign anything was getting to her at all was in the subtle twitch of her thighs, in the way her breathing caught.

 

It'd take a long fucking time before he had her writhing, but they'd get there.

 

With direct access to her clit, Mason took advantage. He used this tongue, his lips, his teeth against it, against her. He was messy, loud, all brashness and arrogance.

 

That was him, though. Finesse, careful, fuck that bullshit. He hadn't gotten to where he was in life by taking shit slow or easy.

 

The softest moan left her lips, so quiet that the filthy sound of his mouth against her cunt almost drowned it out.

 

He took two of his fingers from his other hand and pressed them into her cunt, a hard thrust, the roughness she craved even if she never admitted it.

 

Her nails dug into his scalp when she came on his tongue, that drenched fucking cunt clamping down on his fingers even as he kept fucking her with them.

 

Her hips shifted then, those moments after an orgasm when she lost that mask, when she just felt and moved. It was the only moments of something real, when neither of them tried to one-up one the other.

 

Didn't last long, so he enjoyed the way she pressed her dripping cunt against his face, the way she rubbed that wetness into his mustache.

 

Her knee trembled, the muscles there almost giving out. Perfect.

 

Mason pulled away, letting her leg slide down from his shoulder to the crook of his elbow. He used it to keep the leg hiked high, to spread her open before he forced his cock into her.

 

Her body still clenched, walls tightening around him as he slid into her.

 

He turned her, grasping her other leg so each leg draped over his arms, the back of her knees to the inside of his elbows. He moved her until her back hit the wall, using that to brace her for his thrusts.

 

He fucked her hard, taking her in deep and fast thrusts. The way his arms hooked beneath her legs let him leverage her more, leaning his weight into each thrust, getting just as deep as he could.

 

Her arms went around his shoulders, long fingernails digging into the back of his neck. Wetness tracked down his back, telling him she'd broken his skin.

 

Fine with him. He'd wear that shit with pride.

 

She leaned forward but passed by his lips again.

 

What a teasing cunt.

 

She caught his ear between her teeth instead, clinging to him. "Is this all you have, Alpha?"

 

"Ain't seen a fucking thing yet, kitten." Mason pulled out of her and dropped her legs.

 

She stumbled and would have fallen if not for the death grip she had on him.

 

He wrapped a hand in her hair and turned her, knocking her to her knees the same way she had to him. He manhandled her forward, her neck arched sharply since he still had a hold of her hair.

 

Mason fisted his cock and slid back into her heat, groaning at the tightness.

 

Her fucking cunt was just like she was as a woman. A trap that a man could get killed trying to get near. Always resisting, but damn if she didn't give in when he pushed.

 

He fucked her harder, wishing he'd stripped her out of her shirt. He wanted to see that expanse of skin in front of him, wanted her naked and open for him.

 

"You gonna bitch about fucking robot parts anymore?"

 

"Are you going to keep killing off my people?"

 

"If they get close to our territory, yeah." He punctuated his point with a hard thrust of his hips.

 

A broken moan left her lips, the sort of sound he knew she loathed that made him love it all the more. "Your animals snap and snarl from behind their fence, like dogs in a yard."

 

"You really trying to negotiate right now? What with my cock almost to your throat?"

 

"Like all men, you overestimate your assets and your position. I'm trying to keep more people from dying and wasting good caps in the process. Pull your boys away from the gate or move the parts close to Galactic Zone."

 

"I don't overestimate shit." Mason jerked her upright by the grip on her hair, rewarded by a whine that changed into a moan.

 

Her back pressed against his chest before he angled her head to press his lips to her throat.

 

"Be reasonable, Mason."

 

His name on her lips had him feeling giving. "Fine. I'll have my boys deliver the shit to your door. Now, let me show you how reasonable I can be." His free hand slid around her front, dipping between her legs to find her clit.

 

He didn't slow his pace, his hips smacking against her ass as he fucked her. She'd arch forward, then backward, meeting his thrusts, trapped there by him.

 

That familiar tightness in his balls said he was almost there. He could hold off, force her to come again first, but fuck that. He'd earned this. He latched his teeth down on the bony part of her shoulder, buried himself as deep as he could, then came.

 

Each jerk of his cock, each spurt of come he left in her had his hands flexing around her.

 

The moment he could breathe again, he sped his fingers on her clit.

 

She swung her elbow back into his side, wanting to keep him from getting her off again, some sort of empty pride. Fuck that.

 

He closed his fingers around her clit in a hard pinch because whether she liked to admit it or not, he knew her body and damn well knew how to play it.

 

Her head fell back, tits pressed out against her top. Her cunt tightened down so much it forced his softening cock out of her, probably forced some of his come out, too.

 

He released her shoulder, pressing his lips to the red mark.

 

When he let go of her hair, she fell forward, catching herself on her hands. Fuck, her on all fours like that? He was about ready to try and mount her again.

 

Except he wasn't nineteen anymore.

 

Besides, she wasn't the sort of bitch you wanted to try and mount whenever you damned well pleased. She'd castrate him for that, and he was attached to his balls.

 

Mags shuddered, body still sensitive, before she got to her feet. Her hips lost that sway he liked, too tired to try for sultry, but he liked it better.

 

He liked her like this: used, worn out, filled with his come. She didn't look like the boss of the Operators right then, like some rich snooty Diamond City bitch. She just looked like Mags.

 

"Stay."

 

She pulled her pants on, not bothering to clean up first. Both come and the blood from his nose showed on her thighs. "You are kidding, right?"

 

"Nope. Just fucking stay. Ain't gotta stay forever, ain't asking you to run off and elope, just asking you to stay for a few hours. Hell, I promise to make you come a few more times, anything you want."

 

Mags walked forward until she was just in front of Mason.

 

He got to his own feet, his hand reaching out to grasp the back of her neck.

 

"This isn't ever going to go that way. You know that, and I know that. We fuck. That is it."

 

"So stay and fuck some more." He leaned down and pressed his lips to her jaw. "Bet you ain't got a place to go right now." He offered another kiss to her cheek. "You know you'd rather stay here." His lips brushed the corner of hers, as close to a kiss as they'd ever gotten.

 

Her breath spilled over his cheek as he waited, and waiting wasn't something he'd ever been good at.

 

Instead of the kiss he wanted, Mags pulled away. She shook her head and went to the wall where her boots sat. She pulled them on, lacing them with quick, efficient pulls. Not a speck of uncertainty on that face.

 

No, not Mags. Bitch was steady as a rock.

 

"Let's not fuck up a good thing, pup. We have our fun, we keep from killing each other. Let that be enough. We’re both too smart for romantic foolishness." She took her jacket off the hook, that strip of skin showing again when she lifted her arms to slide the jacket on. She used her fingers to straighten her hair, to refasten it. Not in the perfectly styled way she'd had before, but good enough no one would ask. A swipe of her thumb beneath her lips to remove any smeared lipstick, and she was gone.

 

Fuck her.

 

Mason walked over, naked and not giving a fuck, to the wall where the hook rested. He wrapped his fingers around it and yanked it off the wall. He hauled it back, then tossed it from the window over the lift.

 

If only he could get rid of Mags as easily. He wished he could rip her out from wherever the fuck she'd dug those nails of hers into. He wanted to throw her ass out that window, rid his head and his fucking life of her.

 

He shook his head and turned his back on the window. A beer, maybe call up a pack girl to wipe the taste of Mags away. A brunette, heavy and masculine and scarred up. Everything Mags wasn't.

 

He grabbed the beer from the shelf.

 

"Do you have one for me?"

 

He paused, tipping his beer up to take a large drink before turning to face Mags. "What're you doing back?"

 

She lifted the hook. "You lost something."

 

He snorted before grabbing another beer and tossing it to her.

 

Mags caught the beer and set the hook on the table.

 

"You just here to mooch off my beer?"

 

"You asked me to stay."

 

"And you said we ain't the sort of fall for romantic foolishness."

 

She used the edge of the shelf to pop the cap off the beer. "We aren't. This isn't about romance, it's about the hook. It's going to need to be fixed."

 

Mason cocked an eyebrow up before he leaned his ass against the table, still naked while she was fully dressed.

 

Damn, had it ever been so fucking clear how different they were? Her looking perfect, him in smeared face paint, blood still on his face, some on his chest, his mustache probably a mess from the wetness of her cunt.

 

"So, what are you saying, Mags?" He used her real name, not a pet name, not an insult.

 

Mags took a drink of her beer, gaze on him. It dangled from her fingertips as she walked up to him. She stopped just in front of him, gaze lifted to his, the single smudge of her lipstick she'd missed as the only evidence of their earlier fuck. "Well, I do need that hook, so I’m going to have to oversee its repair."

 

Mason huffed a soft laugh. "Might take a while. I'm an animal, after all. Building shit ain't in my normal skill set."

 

She leaned in and brushed her lips against his, an almost kiss, a consolation prize. "Guess I'm here to stay for a while, then."

 

“Guess you are.” Mason wrapped his hand in her hair and took her lips in the kiss she’d hinted at, the one he’d wanted.

 

Yeah, he’d make sure that hook took a long fucking time to fix.


End file.
